


Empty Hallways

by ashandcas (ashriddle4)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x03 Coda, Bottom Dean, Dean Crying During Sex, Dean is very hurt by Mary leaving, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Thank you Sam for being top notch, Top Castiel, oddly kinky given the situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashriddle4/pseuds/ashandcas
Summary: When Cas learns that Mary left the boys, Cas returns to the bunker to comfort a broken-hearted Dean.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I mostly just needed to process my feelings about 12x03. I don't know if I'm really gonna start writing fic often again I just had to get this off my chest.

Cas’s phone buzzed. He looked at the screen to find a text message from Sam.

_Mom left. Dean’s not ok. Hell, I’m not ok. screw this Lucifer stuff for awhile and come home?_

Cas tensed, sadness rushing up and over him like a cold wave. _Dean must be devastated,_ Cas thought. The absence of Mary had always been like an empty hallway in Dean’s life. Cas had hoped having Mary back meant Dean would enter all the good doors he’d kept himself from his whole life. But Mary being gone again, and this time by choice, turned an empty hallway into a dark one.

He texted Sam back.

_Coming home._

The word “home” was easier to type than it should have been. Truer than it should have been. 

* * *

 

The bunker was quiet, dark. Not empty in the ominous way it had been after Cas believed Dean had died, but just humming a sad energy below the surface, like the ghost static picked up on Dean’s homemade EMF reader. Cas had spent nights awake in the bunker while the others’ slept, but this felt different. 

He crept his way down to Dean’s room. Cas hesitated before nudging the door open. A part of him whispered not to intrude, but another part of him shouted to go inside, to comfort Dean. 

Dean wasn’t alone. Sam laid on top of the covers, turned to face away from Dean. He knew Dean and Sam shared a bed most of their childhood since motel rooms generally came equipped with no more than two beds. It made sense to Cas that they would retreat to this. Their childhood while broken and meager in so many ways was still theirs. Real, like a skinned knee. 

“Hey,” Sam’s voice was low. “Glad you’re here.” Sam moved to stand up. 

“You don’t have to go,” Cas whispered.

“I’m fine.”

“Sam.”

“I’m not fine, but I need to get up, do something, not just lay her and think.” Sam stood up from the bed. Dean stirred beside him but didn’t wake.

Sam hugged Cas. “Thank you. He’s glad you’re here even if he doesn’t say it,” Sam said.

Cas nodded as Sam pulled out of the hug and walked out of Dean’s room. The door shut with a click, leaving Cas alone with a sleeping Dean. Cas sat down on the bed beside Dean, kicked off his shoes and pulled his legs up onto covers. He leaned back against the headboard. Cas had no designs on waking Dean. He would just be there. He’d be there and he’d _want_ to be there. 

“Sam,” Dean muttered sleepily, turning to face Cas.

“It’s me.”

“Cas?”

“Of course.”

“Why’re you back?”

Cas contemplated lying, but what purpose did it serve? “Sam texted me.”

A long pause. “Oh … you know then.”

“I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Dean laughed. Not the kind of laugh that accompanied an episode of _Gilligan’s Island_ he’d found on late night TV or the kind he’d laugh when Cas would stumble through some human experience. This was the kind of laugh reserved for stories of hunts gone wrong, for stories of John with rewritten endings (so _‘_ Sam never knows _’)_. A laugh painted salt-and-burn grey. 

“You think I’d be used to it by now,” Dean said. “Everyone leaves me. Mom, Sam…even you.”

Cas shut his eyes. “I never wanted to. Not really.”

“Why?”

Without thought, Cas found himself sliding down the headboard and lying his head on the pillow. He curled in toward Dean so they were face to face. 

“You don’t know?” Cas was close enough to Dean now that he could see him sharply. His brow was wrinkled, his eyes sparkled wet. Dean’s tongue pressed out from between his teeth and licked his lips. Breathlessly, Dean spoke:

“Show me.”

Cas hesitated for all the reasons he kept hesitating over the years. The most fundamental being _Dean loves me, not like that._ The second most fundamental being _I don’t deserve him._ When Cas had said to Mary that he was uncertain if he belonged here, it had been less about his wings and more about this: he was a lover in brother’s clothing. 

Dean saw Cas how he saw Sam. A brother, their bond fraternal, certainly platonic. But Castiel was in love with Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t know this and everyday Cas became more of a liar.

With the backs of his fingers, Cas brushed Dean’s cheek. Dean didn’t move away. Holding his breath, Cas pressed his forehead against Dean’s. Still, Dean did not move away. Closing his eyes, Cas kissed Dean. Dean did not move away. 

No, Dean kissed back.

Cas remembered the first time he’d felt rain as a human. He’d been on the street for four days, his mattress a patchwork of delivery pizza boxes. He wore dirt like a second-layer of skin. His body reeked of its own odor and of decaying garbage.

The sky that night had crackled hot with electricity; it had roared with it. Then, like the sound or the heat had split the clouds open and spilled their insides, the rain poured down. In a rush, Cas had climbed out of the alleyway, dragged himself on to the sidewalk and looked up. 

The water hit him, cool and clean, stripping away the dirt, the smells, the rot. It rushed over his body. Yes, _his body.  His._

That rain, the way it felt, made the pieces, made skin, bones, teeth and blood feel like _himself._

Kissing Dean was just like that. 

It was a little wet like that too. Cas pulled back and opened his eyes to see Dean crying.

“I’m sor-“ Dean’s voice cracked with more tears. “It hurts. My mom.”

“Oh, Dean,” Cas whispered, heart breaking for the man he loved.

Dean grabbed at Dean’s shirt, at his tie. “Please, just please.” Desperation painted Dean’s voice. Cas would give anything to ease that pain.

“Whatever you want.”

“No. Tell me the truth. You have to - what do you want?”

“Anything-“

“ _No.”_ There was a harshness in Dean’s tone that would have been mistaken for anger if Cas hadn’t known it was fear. “I didn’t know how she felt, didn’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. So you have to tell me, Cas? Tell me what you want. Exactly what you want.”

Cas let out a shaky breath. “I want you.” He rolled over on top of Dean, letting his body, no himself,guide his movements. “I want to kiss you. I want to keep kissing you, while I’m pressing all of me against all of you.” Cas rocked down into Dean, moving like his wings were surfing on waves. 

“I want you to feel it,” Cas said, “feel how you’re what I want. All of you. Every last piece. From your soul, to your lips, to your toes. To the scar on the inside of your wrist.” Cas kissed that spot on Dean’s left arm. “To the freckles on the insides of your thighs.”

Dean sobbed. It was about the only way to describe it. He’d never seen Dean like this, never seen him let go like this. Tears dripped over his cheeks and Cas caught them with his tongue.

“I want - I want to be inside of you, Dean.” Cas kissed Dean against, a soft peck to the lips then said against his mouth. “May I?”

Dean shuddered through his whole body. He nodded, trembling.

“I want,” Dean said, but didn’t finish.

Cas sucked a bruise into Dean’s neck. “Yes, tell me what you want.”

He said the word like there was shame in it or embarrassment. There wasn’t. “Gentle.”

“Of course.”

Slowly, Cas began to undress Dean. His shirt, his pants and finally his boxers. It was like slipping a canvas cover off a painting, something hidden in an attic that belonged in a museum. 

Cas bent down, wanting to kiss Dean’s dick and wanting to get to those freckles on his thighs, but before he could Dean surged forward and started pulling furiously at Cas’s clothes. Cas helped, slipping off all of it until he was as naked as Dean, as vulnerable. 

Dean blushed, eyes still red, but the tears had slowed. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing,” Cas had said.

“She didn’t want me.”

Dean crawled onto Cas, who was sitting up, and wrapped his legs around Cas’s lower back, his arms around his shoulders. Dean’s hard cock was pressed against Cas’s stomach and his own sat between Dean’s legs. Dean leaned his head on Cas’s shoulder, sniffling from the tears. He buried his face against Cas’s neck.

So quietly Dean whispered. “There’s lube in the side table.”

Cas reached over and pulled it out. He’d been around long enough to know what he was doing even though he’d never done this before. Cas coated his fingers and slipped one behind Dean’s back and inside him. He tensed, but Cas moved slow, one by one, until he knew Dean was ready. Dean whimpered when Cas pulled out and then slicked up his dick.

“Are you certain, Dean?”

“Please,” he hissed.

Cas pressed his cock in between Dean’s cheeks, against his rim, until it gave, open and slick. Cas wasn’t small, and Dean was tight. _This is why,_ he thought, _humans invented poetry._ No. It was why they invented words, why they invented language. It was why they came out of the cave, out of the sea. 

Gabriel’s voice spoke in his head, “Don’t step on that fish.” They climbed out of the muck for this, out of the primordial ooze — they turned their stardust into bodies. For _this._

Dean was shaking. 

“Are you all right?’ Cas asked. 

Cas could hardly hear Dean but he barely made out Dean saying, “Just hold me.”

“Shh,” Cas whispered, stroking Dean’s hair, running warm hands down his shoulders and back. “Shh,” he repeated, slowly pulling out and fucking back in. Slow and gentle again and again.

Cas paused when he felt Dean get soft against him. He pulled back and held Dean’s head between his hands. “I can stop,” Cas said. “I should stop.”

“No,” Dean replied quickly, sounding frightened. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re not enjoying it.”

“I am … I’m enjoying it differently.” He wiped at his own tears with the back of his hand. “I’m tired and just fucking gutted, man. But you, inside me, it’s _everything.”_ He buried his face back in Cas’s shoulder. “If it were any other day, I’d have you bend me over the hood of my car and we’d both go crazy.”

The thought made Cas unconsciously pound into Dean again. 

“How do you feel Dean? How do I make you feel?”

“Full, wanted, fuck, shit man, _held_.”

Cas took Dean’s soft cock in his hand, letting it lay across his palm and he stroked at the head and the opening. It twitched, a little more blood rushing to it. 

“You are, always.”

Cas imagined doing this again after today. Doing it like Dean said he wanted - over the hood of the car - doing it rough and wild and desperate. Doing it passionate and deep. Then he imagined, nights where Dean just wanted this again, just wanted Cas buried inside him, reminding Dean he wasn’t alone, wasn’t abandoned. 

“Come inside me,” Dean breathed against Cas’s skin.

Cas moved Dean’s face to his again and kissed him hard, letting the kiss grow and strengthen with his thrusts. It took Dean awhile, but eventually he hardened again. A natural reaction and something the groans and pants he was making ensured Cas Dean wanted. Cas stroked Dean in time with his movements, listening to Dean, feeling him, so he could make him want just the right way, over and over and over. Perfect.

Cas had wanted Dean for so long, and he was so beautiful and felt so good, that it didn’t take long before Cas was standing on that sidewalk in the rain again. Becoming himself all over again, but lit up this time. Loved this time.

“I love you,” Cas said with the little breath he had left.

Dean groaned and came all over Cas’s chest, then slumped against him hard. As Cas laid Dean back on the sheets, he slipped out. They both seemed to hate the loss. 

“Should we clean up?”

Dean rolled over onto his stomach and said so, so quietly like he didn’t want Cas to hear. “I wish you were still inside me.”

With a light breath, Cas laid on his back beside Dean. He reached his hand over and pressed two fingers inside Dean. He was open and dripping Cas’s come. The thought nearly knocked Cas out.

Dean mumbled a grumpy “Thank you.”

Cas smiled, stroking softly. “Get some sleep, Dean. I’ll be here in the morning.”

Only a few days ago, Cas had told Mary he wasn’t sure if he belonged. He still wasn’t certain if this was where he belonged, but was certain that it didn’t matter. He was, in every way, exactly where he wanted to be. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
